


One to Grow

by aflaminghalo



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Bondage, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflaminghalo/pseuds/aflaminghalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turnabout is fair play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One to Grow

Bruce pulled his wrists back down towards his head, gently tugging against the leather thong that bound them. Bright little shocks of pain scattered across his skin as it pulled at the coarse hairs that dusted his wrists. He moved his arms in again, more firmly but the bonds still didn’t give, biting again but remaining tethered to the headboard. Keeping him tethered to the headboard.

Bruce wasn’t really shocked that Dick had gotten the drop on him. It had been a game of theirs, of his, years before; to try and sneak into Bruce’s bedroom before his footsteps, muffled in the thick carpets, or presence would wake the older man. Bruce had always been a heavy sleeper though, and Dick had lost only slightly more than he’d succeeded. His chagrin came from the fact that Dick had done it, and done this to him. He could easily slip his ties, he knew, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Dick…” He tried to make the name a warning, growling it out so low he could feel it vibrate in his chest. 

Dick smiled beatifically down at him from his seat next to Bruce’s chest, trying to look as though Bruce’s current state had absolutely nothing to do with him. It was impressive how well it worked. “Nu-uh, Bruce. You’re the one always telling me that if I can’t fight on my opponent’s level,” Dick stretched forward, leaning lazily over Bruce to playfully tug the strap tying him. “I should bring him down to mine.” 

“And waking me up with bondage is your idea of bringing me down to your level?” Bruce lifted his head up from the mattress to look at Dick properly. The young man was still smiling but it was just a fraction too wide, the kind of smile he wore on patrol some nights when his enjoyment was tempered with a slice of fear. “You know that when I get these off it’ll be your turn.” 

Dick laughed. “Then that’s just extra incentive to make this worth it Bruce.” He splayed a strong hand down on Bruce’s chest and pushed him back down against the mattress. 

Bruce huffed at the unexpected display of strength. It was still a novelty to him that Dick had grown up and had grown so strong. Sometimes it shocked him when to realize that Dick was a young man now, and not still an easily impressed eight year old. He followed it with a smile, gentling his voice and trying a different tack. “You know Dick, you can let me go. I promise I’ll play along.” 

“Sorry Bruce, but every year I say I’m going to get you, and every year you get out of it.” Dick dug his hands underneath Bruce’s hips and rolled him onto his front. “Consider it interest.” 

Bruce sighed as he considered Dick’s words. All he was asking for was for Bruce to play along with a harmless tradition; one that he himself had instigated, even if it had been years ago. In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t a lot to give. “You’re right, Dick. I guess you are owed a little payback.” He pulled himself to his hands and knees, finding his balance on the soft surface beneath him. “And as such, I shall submit myself to your tender mercies.” He bowed his head forward. 

Dick snorted at the sadly dramatic display and knelt up. “Well, that would be a first. I’d better not let it go to waste.” 

Bruce could hear Dick shifting around behind him, hidden from his vision. A sudden kiss of cold morning air hit his buttocks as his pajama pants were unceremoniously yanked down. 

“You little…” 

“Language, chum… I’m just trying to make sure it feels authentic, Bruce.” Dick patted Bruce's shoulder blades, rubbing a little at the tight spot that lived between them. “Gee, I hope I don’t lose count.” 

“It’s not that big a numb…” Bruce’s gripe gave way to a gasp as Dicks slender hand landed sharply across his backside. He blinked; silenced, shocked. 

Despite Dick managing to get close enough to string Bruce to his own headboard without waking him, and the bravado he’d shown in pulling Bruce’s pants down, Bruce still had not believed the boy would go through with it - that somehow the whole thing would be passed over and they’d go down to breakfast; that later on Bruce would give Dick a lesson in messing with the master on the exercise mats in the gym. 

From the sudden lack of noise or movement coming from near his backside, he was sure Dick hadn’t really thought he’d go through with it either. 

Bruce turned, twisting his upper body so he could look at his ward. He cocked an eyebrow. “One.” 

Dick stared back at him, unmoving; then grinned widely, unapologetically. He brought his hand down on the backside stretched across his lap; harder this time. Bruce hissed, even though this time he was expecting the sting. 

“Two.” 

Bruce made himself relax into it; counting the blows and feeling the warmth as it built and itched through his skin. 

It had been a long time since he’d been on the receiving end of a spanking - not since he’d been at school and such things had still passed for punishment. In the time that had passed since then he’d learnt how so many different blows felt and learnt to take them all, but this one he’d forgotten, had the chance to forget; the sting and the heat and the way it felt to be hit in a way meant to hurt but not to harm. It was… pleasant; something to explore later, possibly, with a more appropriate bedmate. Bruce pushed the thought away and hummed as Dick continued his attack. 

“And one to grow…” Dick punctuated each word with a hard smack to Bruce’s backside. Dick had never had a real spanking, at least not to Bruce’s knowledge. The one he’d just administered had been proof of it, but the last blow hit a sweet spot, landing across the area where buttock muscles rolled gently into hamstrings and the skin was incredibly sensitive. 

It wasn’t a painful blow, not really, but it rolled through Bruce’s body like thunder, jerking his head back and a forcing a hard groan from his throat. 

Silence dropped onto the bed like a stone. Neither of them moved. There was no denying Bruce’s reaction, no way to deny it had happened. Bruce felt a scald of embarrassment on his face – another sensation he’d forgotten he was capable of. Time stretched out, swelling to fill the room until it felt like something that was too full to be pierced. He’d humiliated himself. He’d taken a good-natured joke with Dick and perverted it. In the silence of the room, Bruce could almost hear the sound of himself echoing. There was no undoing that, but he could stop compounding the situation. The longer he knelt there, cold and exposed, the more foolish he felt, the more inappropriate. The more the skin of his cheeks burnt more on his face than his buttocks. He shifted forward, tentatively moving to stand up, not wanting to startle Dick. 

There was a choked gasp behind him. Dick caught his hips, yanking Bruce back onto his knees, fingers clamping onto his hips like a pair of vices, holding him in place. 

Dick hit Bruce again; a harder, sharper strike this time, deliberately aimed at causing Bruce to cry out again. This time Dick left deliberate seconds for the pain to bloom fully through his skin before striking again, just as hard, just as sure. 

With that one blow, the atmosphere in the bedroom had transformed from one of tolerant play into something heavier, something darker. Bruce closed his eyes and wished that the curtains that hung from his bedframe were closed, could hide them away. 

Dick continued to rain punishing blows down on the burning skin, the spanking becoming sharper and harder, no longer innocent but intended to push Bruce into a place they’d never been with each other. 

All of Bruce’s awareness was centered beneath Dick’s hand. His body was responding of its own volition now; arching back, snapping forward, seeking out the sharp shocks of pain that transformed into heat and warmth as they built in his buttocks and leached into his groin. Bruce rocked his hips with more and more force, the low waistband of his pyjamas not giving him nearly enough friction. He felt like Sisyphus, working towards a peak, but unable to reach it. 

“Dick, I…” His voice was heavy and hoarse, as though everything he wanted to ask for was contained in that one word. It was another humiliation for Bruce, but the skin of his buttocks burnt like a furnace, and an insistent pulse thrummed in his cock. He was almost beyond caring. 

“Bruce.” 

His name was a feather tickling his spine, a ghost of a breath barely audible in the vast expanse of his bedroom. It flooded him with relief, reassuring him that he hadn’t been alone in his reactions. 

Dick’s ministrations stopped suddenly, with no warning. 

Bruce groaned again at the sudden lack of sensation, the immediate loneliness he felt, as though his anchor to the room had suddenly broken its chains and left him floating out into nothing. 

Then Dick was behind him, his legs tangling with Bruce’s. Desperate fingers dug into his ass, gripping the spot where the skin felt so tender it was like liquid, forming ripples of sensation to follow in their wake, keeping Bruce on edge, making sure he couldn’t settle into the burn. 

Dick pulled Bruce tightly against him, bracing himself against the back of Bruce’s thighs, the material of his pyjamas rubbing warm and coarse against the sensitized flesh. 

With his hands tied, Bruce was left at Dick’s mercy. Unable to touch himself, unable to get any real contact or friction where he needed it, all that was left to him was to rock back against Dick, grinding himself against his thighs, his hardness; to listen to the noises he was making, sounds he’d never heard him make before; to feel the heat of Dick’s breath against his neck lick over him like dragon’s fire. 

Dicks hand stroked questingly over his hip and then lower, his grip finally snug and strong around Bruce, stroking him in hard counterpoint to his own rhythm; tighter, faster, feeling more and more like falling over a waterfall, and praying not to be smashed at the bottom. 

Bruce could feel Dick tighten, behind him and around him and the force of it pulled him with him, aching into his own orgasm. 

Bruce fell forward, limp and spent. He let his forearms catch his weight. He could feel Dick sprawl across his back, his body sliding against Bruce, both of them wet with sweat, then stirring and pulling back. The cold air hit him hard where Dick’s warmth had been. 

Dick moved forward to untie Bruce’s wrists, not looking directly at Bruce. 

Bruce held his hands up, already free of their binding. 

Dick sat, pulling his legs up underneath himself with an uncommon lack of grace. He smiled at Bruce, sheepish and shy, running a hand over the back of his neck, the other toying with the detail on the bedspread. 

“So, uh, happy birthday, Bruce.”


End file.
